Veil
by nine miles to go
Summary: The people who leave you are never truly gone.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Spider-Man.

This is my one-shot contribution to Spider-Ladies Positive Relationships Fanworks Fest on Tumblr. It lasts until July 13th! The tag is slrpfest, so I have read.

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**Veil**

"What is my mom like?"

It isn't the first time Gwen has answered this question. "Fearless," she says anyway. "Clever. Loyal. Sometimes a little bit silly … like you."

May grins up at her. She has a gap where she has lost her front two baby teeth. It has always struck Gwen as oddly how time passes here, sometimes in long and short intervals, sometimes not at all.

"Is she pretty?"

Gwen reaches forward and hooks her hands under May's armpits, scooping her onto her lap. May tucks her knees into herself and burrows into Gwen's chest. She won't be this small forever. Gwen strokes the frizzy red hair out of May's face, revealing the full, happy cheeks of her mother, the inquisitive eyes of her father, and a smattering of freckles that are all her own.

"Beautiful," says Gwen. "When she smiles, you can't help but smile back."

May is quiet for a moment. The rocking chair tilts lazily beneath them, forward and back, forward and back. The sun is starting to set over the hills, casting long shadows over the quiet little homes. Cicadas hum in the grass, and a gentle wind blows with the sweet, warm smell of earth.

"And my dad?"

Gwen closes her eyes and pulls May closer, feeling the flit of her little heartbeat against her chest. There is no sadness here; still, there is the bluest tinge to the memory.

"Your dad," says Gwen. She licks her upper lip thoughtfully. She has told May so many times, but May is so young and there is no telling which time is the one she will remember. Gwen wants to make sure to get it right.

"Your dad is … strong, like you. And kind." It's hard to remember the life that she had before, but the sharper bits, the parts that stay with her, revolve around Peter and Mary Jane. _I loved him_, she thinks, but of course that is barely more than a memory now. "And stubborn. He never knows when to give up."

"Is that bad?"

"Hardly ever."

May hums a bit in response. Her skinny little fingers find Gwen's and intertwine. In the periphery Gwen can see the glow of the night's first fireflies, floating like twinkling constellations an in inconstant sky.

After awhile May is heavy in her arms, and Gwen thinks she must have fallen asleep. The chair creaks beneath them. The yellow sun is barely on the horizon, leaving streaks of purples, pinks, and gold.

When you come into this new world, after you die, there is always someone there to greet you. There isn't any panic or pain, not even residual sadness, but there is, of course, an adjustment period. You leave behind everything you ever knew, and in some cases quite unexpectedly – it only makes sense that you should have someone waiting for you on the other side.

For Gwen, it was her father. He greeted her with open arms, listened to her story, wrote everything down. She is glad he had the forethought to do that, because her former life gets fuzzier with every passing day.

Years passed, or at least she thinks it was years. Time unravels here slowly and beautifully that it becomes too precious to account for.

And then she was given a summons – someone from her former life had passed on to their world. She wondered who it would be. By then Gwen couldn't remember much at all from beyond this place. Faces were indistinct, names were lost.

But she took one look at May and felt a flood – there she was, so pink and new, with that shock of red hair. It was like finding something dear that she forgot she had lost. _Mary Jane_.

"Her name is May," said the stranger who handed her over. Gwen remembers extending her arms to take her, feeling awkward and unsure, and the forgiving way that May settled into her, her wails subsiding, her all-too-familiar eyes watchful and bright.

Gwen took her home that day, and they have been together ever since.

"How much longer until I meet them?"

May's voice is barely a whisper. Gwen strokes her hair, mindful of the tangles. "Soon, sweetheart," she says. The house on the left of them emptied out a few weeks ago, and Gwen can feel some hopeful, anticipatory shift in the wind. It won't be long now.

Long after the sun sinks lazily into the sky, Gwen shimmies her arm under May's knees and scoops her up, carrying her back into the house.

"There are my favorite girls," says Harry, leaning in to grab May, kissing Gwen lightly on the cheek.

He carries May the rest of the way to the little bedroom right next to theirs. Gwen watches as Harry tucks her in, pushes her hair out of her face, kisses her on the forehead. He turns to leave and sees Gwen watching in the doorway and smiles that crooked smile at her, the one that still warms her chest even after all this time.

She has no idea where it is that they go after they leave this world. But she hopes that she and Harry go together.

The two of them settle back out onto the deck. She rests her head on Harry's shoulder, rising and falling with his every breath.

He arrived here not long after she did. It is a wonder, how changed a man he is in this world, how changed any man is when they are given a chance to thrive.

"Look," says Harry.

She follows his gaze to the house next door. There is a light on in the kitchen, and then another in the living room, and another, and another.

Gwen is on her feet before the knowledge even fully sinks in. She holds her breath, takes a hesitant step toward the house, and Harry moves his arm to caution her, but then they hear it: that familiar, ringing bell of a laugh.

"Go wake May," says Gwen breathlessly.

Peter and Mary Jane are finally home.


End file.
